Still in the western suburbs of Chicago, in a small tavern with a "CLOSED" sign hanging outside, the inside was thick with smoke.
There was a bartender and four burly men in suits, smoking and drinking quietly.
"Who would have thought that damn drunk was so easy to knock out? Now, great, he died and not only messed up our plan, but also got the police investigating more thoroughly. What a stroke of bad luck. Goss, pour me another drink." One of the men in a suit finished his whiskey in one gulp, then cursed as he placed the glass on the counter.
These four burly men were the ones who had tried to rob a jewelry store the night Tony Wendis drunkenly interfered, causing their plan to fail and ultimately having Josh framing them for the crime.
From this man's words, it was clear that they didn't realize Tony Wendis had been killed by Josh later; they thought they had beaten the man to death themselves.
"That's enough. You've already drunk two bottles of my whiskey. This is genuine Kentucky bourbon!" The bartender, named Goss, rolled his eyes and didn't refill their drinks.
Not only was he the bartender, but he was also the owner of the small tavern, and an accomplice to these four, handling their logistical needs like buying guns, getting cars, and disposing of stolen goods.
"Oh, come on, Goss, it's just two bottles of whiskey!" The burly man named Cody grumbled in displeasure.
"Just two bottles? You're using that word well, Cody! You want to go outside and see how much a bottle of whiskey costs now? Two hundred bucks, that's right, two hundred bucks, and you can't even get it if you have the money!" Goss muttered discontentedly.
Although Prohibition had long passed, due to the war, alcohol prices in the U.S. had soared again. By 1943, it was nearly impossible to find properly distilled alcohol, as much of it had been requisitioned by the military.
Even the whiskey imported from Ireland had mostly been seized.
A proper bottle of whiskey could easily cost dozens or even hundreds of dollars.
As for high-end bourbons, two hundred dollars was not expensive at all.
Of course, cheaper options were available, like those from small distilleries or farm-made batches, which could be bought for about ten bucks a bottle.
However, those who knew about alcohol would understand that such homemade spirits were of poor taste, lower proof, and might even be dangerous.
"Hey, just two hundred bucks. We robbed so much jewelry before," Cody said unbothered. He knew the whiskey was expensive, but so what? In their line of work, what was the point of living if they weren't drinking away their misery?
"How much, huh? Yeah, you guys robbed quite a bit before, but how many high-end items did you get? Even the gold was just 18K, platinum was rare, and the silver was the best stuff. The total value barely hit 100,000 bucks. And that's not even factoring in the costs. Even if we manage to sell everything, we might get more than 20,000, thank God for that. After deducting costs for the guns, cars, and other expenses, how much do we have left?" Goss scolded.
That's right, this gang had already robbed three times in Chicago.
But each time, their targets were just regular, low-end jewelry stores.
These stores didn't carry any high-end items.
So, even though they stole a lot, the jewelry's quality was low, worth only a few dozen to a couple hundred dollars each.
Compared to jewelry in the 21st century that costs thousands or even tens of thousands of dollars, these items were nothing.
Anyone with knowledge would know that, apart from the precious metals used in jewelry, the gemstones were worth very little unless they had commercial value added.
So, although they had stolen hundreds of pieces worth over 100,000 dollars on paper, their actual worth was closer to 40-50,000.
But it didn't end there. The middlemen who bought stolen goods would always take a hefty cut of at least 50%, and the more shady ones might take 70% or 80%.
After all, who would risk their necks to help dispose of stolen goods?
When you added it all up, Goss' estimate of 20,000 was actually pretty good.
If you split it between the five of them, each person would only get about 4,000 bucks… enough to buy a few bottles of whiskey.
Cody, the robber, didn't say anything anymore. He was a bit stunned but knew Goss was telling the truth.
"Alright, Goss, open another bottle. This one's on me!" Just then, the smallest of the four burly men, but the one who looked the oldest, spoke up.
When Goss heard him, he didn't argue and nodded, pulling another bottle of his private stock from the counter.
"Heh, Louis, you're always generous!" Cody exclaimed, eagerly opening the bottle and pouring a drink for Louis, then filling his own glass.
"I don't have much of this good whiskey left. Before long, I'll be stuck selling homemade stuff," Goss shook his head and said.
"Don't worry, Goss, everything will be alright," Louis smiled and took a sip, then looked at the other two men. "Frank, Dix, why are you so quiet today? Don't worry, once the heat dies down, we'll hit another big one."
"Of course, Louis, I trust you!" said the tallest of the men, Dix, in a deep voice.
"Louis…I want out," the last man, Frank, said after hesitating for a moment.
His words caught the group off guard.
"Why, Frank? We've only just started, and we've been doing well," Cody asked, his voice anxious. "Are you planning to betray us just because of a little trouble?"
"Cody, shut up!" Louis snapped, then turned to Frank. "Frank, what's going on?"
"It's Macy, she doesn't want me to keep going down this path," Frank hesitated, explaining.
Macy was a country girl and Frank's childhood sweetheart, his lover.
"Oh, come on, Macy again. What's so special about her? Look at Vanna, she never tries to control me," Cody sneered at Frank's response.
"Cody!" Louis spoke firmly again.
Cody shrugged and fell silent.
"Alright, you want to quit, that's your choice. But what do you plan to do after?" Louis asked Frank.
"I'm planning to join the army," Frank stated his decision.
"Great!" Cody rolled his eyes.
Although the federal government's propaganda had many young people joining the army, Cody was definitely not one of them.
But Louis, as the leader, didn't have much to say. Their group was just a temporary one, thrown together, and there weren't many rules.
"If you want to quit, that's fine. But, Frank, there are some things I need to say upfront. First, because you're quitting early, your share will be cut in half. Also, don't ever betray your brothers, or you know what the consequences are," Louis said as he downed his drink.
"Of course, Louis, I understand. Thanks for understanding," Frank said gratefully.
Just then, there was a knock on the tavern door.
The group immediately tensed up.
Goss motioned for them to stay calm, then carefully moved toward the door, peering through the blinds before relaxing.
"It's Colby!" Goss told the group.
At the mention of his name, everyone relaxed.
Colby was a well-known underground broker in the area, someone who made connections, helped sell stolen goods, lent money, ran underground casinos, and organized underground horse racing. He was a major figure in the underworld.
Louis and his group often worked through Colby for many of their deals.
"Louis, someone wants to see you!" Colby walked in and looked around the tavern before addressing Louis.
"See me? Who?" Louis furrowed his brow and asked.
"Dr. Schneider, Elvin Linden Schneider, have you heard of him?" Colby asked.
"Schneider? Dr. Schneider from Philadelphia?" The others were confused, but Louis' eyes lit up.